Sweet Confusion
by Latin Girl Writter
Summary: A mother should know her children, then why doesn't she? A soul should know their God, then why doesn't she? One-shot  Warning: there is ONE, and I mean, ONE single swat given to a child. Bare in mind this is the 40's, please.


Sweet Confusion

It had not been the first time she had done such a thing, and she would certainly think it wouldn't be the last. Certainly, every good parent is to punish his offspring when necessary, and Helen Pevensie had been raising children for fourteen years now. Hence, it was normal that she was so confused as to the reaction of her youngest.

It had all started when she had walked into the kitchen to find her nine year old by the stove doing some tea.

"Lucy!" She had exclaimed. "What on earth are you doing child?"

She had never imagined Lucy to be the one to break one of her most kept rules. Until being twelve, none of her daughters could get close to the stove. When the age came, they would learn to cook. Of course, only Susan was old enough to cook, and Lucy had always accepted this.

"Making tea, Mother." Lucy had answered in a very confused tone, stating it as if it was the most obvious thing.

Mother, not mum. Lately, almost always mother and not mum. Helen had frowned and peeked into the pot. The water was already about to boil. Frustrated, she turned the thing off and turned towards her youngest. She still couldn't comprehend the change they had all had during the months they stayed in the county.

"You know you can't do that, young lady." She scolded, leaning over and giving a light swat to her behind, though she was immensely surprised to see a flash of anger cross through Lucy's eyes.

"My apologies, Mother. It won't happen again, you have my word." Lucy replied with much calmness in her voice, despite what her eyes spoke, while looking at her in the eyes for a moment. "May I retire?"

Helen was speechless. Whenever she had reprimanded Lucy, for as mild as it was, the little girl always had burst into tears of remorse, begging for forgiveness. This was the oddest behavior for her child.

"Yes." It was all she could say, and it was all Lucy needed to flee after giving her a slight bow, just as Susan, Peter and Edmund entered the kitchen, chatting blissfully to one another.

"Mmm, smells like Lucy's tea!" Edmund said suddenly, turning with a grin just to deter it when he noticed it was her and not their sister. "Moth-Mum!" he replied, with a smile.

"Did you know Lucy was doing tea?" She asked with a frown at her youngest son, before looking at Susan and Peter, who looked at each other with worried eyes.

"No, I didn't." Edmund said, and despite Helen's slight distrust of Edmund's veracity of his words, she had no reason not to believe him. "Lucy has done a special herbal tea, being the sweetest thing ever, and I recognized the smell."

She glanced warily at Edmund, before looking at Peter and Susan who stood protectively behind Edmund. It was as if they were protecting him from _her_. "Oh. Well, please remind Lucy she is NOT to use the stove."

"We shall." Peter spoke, "Did you…"

"She's in her room." She answered, not quite understanding why Peter had trailed off or why he was suddenly so interested on Lucy's fait, though he had always been a little over protective of her more than any of his other siblings. Since their return, though, he had turned into a father and mother to all of them.

She was surprised when it was Edmund who rushed inside and climbed the stairs quickly, followed by a wide eyed Susan and a worried Peter.

She heard how they dashed through the stairs all of them calling for Lucy once they reached the top floor. She frowned in confusion. What was so worrying about her scolding Lucy?

Feeling the urge to talk to all of her children, she quickly climbed up stairs, knowing Lucy and all of her children would be at Peter's room, where Lucy usually went to find comfort. Once, not long ago, Lucy would have gone to her room.

She was about to enter when she heard Lucy's angry voice "- am not a child anymore!" What utter nonsense, she was only nine, only a little girl.

"Your mind is not, but your body says otherwise, Lu." Edmund said, making Helen pause from entering and hearing what they were saying.

"I know!" Lucy cried. "But don't you miss it? You loved to be so tall and strong, Ed, especially on battle! What about you, Peter? You loved your beard!"

"Lu, we all miss several things. I, for once, miss my long hair…and my long legs." Susan spoke next. "But you yourself said we had to accept what has come. We are children once more, no longer adults."

Helen was more than confused by Susan's words. No longer adults? When had they ever been adults? She was now regretting the choice of having sent them to the county. Her heart gave a painful wrench, however, when she heard Lucy's sob it was unlike any she had ever heard her daughter give. It was a sob women did when loosing the love of their lives.

"Lu", she heard Peter's voice for the first time, knowing it was most likely that he was holding his sobbing sister. "We all miss it, Lu, but we have to bear with it. We all miss everything from it, and I would be a hypocrite to say our situation shall improve. It won't. We do have each other, and that shall remain a consolation for us all."

Silence followed, and Lucy's sobs soon diminished and were replaced by sniffles. "I'm sorry." She said afterwards, "but I needed this so very much."

"Hey, we're here for thee." Edmund said next. "Yet, I can't understand something, Lucy. Why would Her Majesty do something as foolish as to forget thy Mother's rules?"

"I should explain my behavior, I owe it to thee, My Kings and Queen." Lucy's voice was heard. "For a moment, I was walking in the garden. I saw this little mouse and it reminded me of the talking mice at the Cair. I felt so at home, for once, that I started talking to it, believing it was one of our good cousins. Imagine my sorrow and grief when I remembered it was but a fool beast. Forlornly, I entered the kitchens, praying in my heart to Aslan that I would find Mrs. Beaver or Cook at it fighting over tonight's dinner. Not finding neither, I wished for a reminder of home, and the only thing we had found remotely close to it is the tea. I forgot thy where not here, but elsewhere. For a moment, as I smelt the sweetness, I felt my old self once more…my real self."

Helen couldn't be more confused. Her head was starting to hurt. She could not understand or make sense of anything that Lucy had said. She knew her children liked to pretend and imagine things, but she had not thought they would take it so to heart.

"Until Mother found thyself by the stove." Edmund whispered.

"Yes, and I was reprimanded as a small, foolish child…a smack and all."

"I hope you were not hurt?" Peter asked, and for a reason, Helen shuddered at the thought of what her son would do to anyone who hurt his siblings.

"Oh, no! Lion's mane, not at all!" Lucy said, and Helen had to frown. "I think I got more hurt when the squirrels confused Edmund and I for one of the nut thieves and threw them to us." Her statement was followed by laughter from everyone at the room.

"Those tickled more than they hurt." Edmund said. "I couldn't believe they were throwing the nuts they were sworn to protect."

"Squirrels have never been known for their brightness." Susan said.

"No, they haven't." Peter said with merriment on his voice, until his voice took a more serious tone. "Lu, you are aware that Mother just bares in her mind the safety of all of us?"

A sigh, definitely Lucy's, was heard then. "Yes." She said. "Though it is so much difficult to bear."

"You should be used to it, though." Edmund chuckled. "After all, our brother Peter is just as bad…if not worst!"

Lucy's sweet laughter was heard, followed by the rest. Helen's heart went out to them, though she felt disloyal by eavesdropping on her own children.

She started to move, especially when she heard Lucy mumble something about apologizing to her. She walked quickly to the kitchen, just to see the pot which had caused all of the distress.

She neared it looking at several herbs in it, some of which she recognized and others which she didn't. She would have never imagined or thought about mixing some of those. The water was still hot, though not in a boiling point anymore.

"Mother?" Lucy called, making Helen turn. "I'm sorry for my earlier behavior." She said, going to stand by her. "I shouldn't have disregarded your rules as such."

Somehow, her nine year old was now an adult…an adult trapped in an adult's body. "That's fine, child." _Child…._ That word did no good to describe Lucy, and she noticed the slight hurt on her daughter's eyes at being called such, though she hid it well. "You know, maybe you are old enough to help around in the kitchen…mind you, with Susan or I here to help." She said, giving her daughter a one arm hug.

She never expected to have the reaction Lucy had, she felt her daughter's still small arms encircling her waist, a squeal of content. "Thank you, Mum! Thank you!" She said, before letting her go and dashing upstairs.

Helen did nothing but stare after her daughter. She then looked at the tea…it was a strange dark color, but for a reason, she wanted to know what her daughter had made. In no time, she had a cup, sugar, cream and other goodies she usually had with tea. She poured out a cup and looked at the strange drink.

Putting some sugar, she stirred it for a bit and blew on top of it, inhaling the strong scent. It was a scent that made her shudder, that made her want more of it. It was a foreign feeling. Not wanting to delay anymore, she took a small sip of the liquid. It was better than the scent, it was much better than any tea she had ever had. It was sweet, sweeter than any other thing, but at the same time, it had a bit of spice, something that made that sweetness bearable and desirable. The warmth rapidly spread through her body, and she could only close her eyes.

For a moment, she found herself sitting down at a balcony, looking over a large stretched beach with clear sand, the waves' noise soothing her even more. The air of such a place felt sweet, heavy, warm…desirable, though something else caught her sight. Something she had never thought she would desire to go to, yet her whole body yearned to run to Him and hug Him, never to let go of Him.

The Beast, a Lion, stood by the edge of the beach, regarding her with an air of calmness. All she wanted to do was run after Him, and it was then that she realized she was standing by the rail, her tea still in her hand. She looked into the cup; it was the tea Lucy had made. She saw as the Lion nodded with his head, and she took the cup once more, drinking some of the sweet drink, closing her eyes once more.

The air felt cold…empty…everything felt…out of place. Startled, she opened her eyes to discover she was once more in her kitchen, standing by the window. Her breathing was sporadic and altered. She could feel her heart beating at an unnatural pace. She looked how a dove, a white dove, was just through her window, looking at her. Just like with the Lion, all she wanted to do was go to this other animal.

She turned, just in time to hear the bird fly away. She placed the cup of tea in the table, deciding it was best to do some chores or occupy her mind on something, and just as she was leaving the kitchen, she heard a faint lion's roar…though she was so immersed in her thoughts, she missed the roar at all.


End file.
